Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(98)
Margo. He means fierce, loyal Margo. I can’t use my magics on her. I can’t. Bile rises and I choke on it.
“My justice,” I bleat out. It is a pathetic plea, because I know that between me and the king, he will choose the king. “My arm . . .”
Justice Méndez slams his fist into the wall, his eyes dilated as he opens the door. “No more delays! It is the hands and not the arm you will need. Take her to her rooms to rest. Tonight, you make a Hollow for your kingdom.”
Chapter 23
Leo and I watch the sunset parade of the royal Leonesse families. They make their way down the royal mile in front of the palace. Each family wears decadent traditional clothing showcasing the colors of their family crests to honor their allegiance to the king of Puerto Leones.
The Carolinas in silver and pale blue, and the Jaramillo family with their forest green and navy. There are seventeen of them with direct ties and claims to the throne from before the Fajardo conquest. There’s the Sevillas with their red and black. The lord and lady on opposite ends of the open chariot. Lord Sevilla waves enthusiastically and reaches into a bin where he keeps picas, hardly worth anything, but the people rush to his carriage and blow kisses at his handsome face.
“Did they find out who sent the assassins?” I ask as Leo pours the tea.
“She only said she acted alone. The girl’s Illusionári glamour has worn away to reveal her true visage. She hasn’t said another word despite—”
He’s quiet, so I finish for him. “Despite the torture.”
I don’t say anything, but I let that fuel my anger toward the justice. Toward the king.
Leo opens the door only once to receive the gown I am to wear to the festival tonight. He helps me dress and clean my wound once more. He takes a step away, a rueful smile on his face despite all that’s happened.
The Moria mourn in red. We also send our dead into the sea in scarlet robes, so Our Lady of Shadows can spot color from the heavens among the dark waves. Most Leonesse citizens, however, are followers of the Father of Worlds. They mourn in black for their lower realm of the Six Heavens, where only ravens can carry souls in and out. For this very reason, I find it strange that Leo has dressed me in an ink-black dress tapered to my waist with satin panels and whaleboning and a silk skirt embroidered in silver thread and a high collar of raven feathers. Getting out of the bloody clothes has revitalized me. My head is clearer than it’s been in days, thanks to the pain tonic.
“The dress was here when I opened the door,” Leo says, returning with something red in his hands.
“Who could have sent it?” I ask. “It’s too extravagant.”
“Everyone will already be looking at you now. Why try to hide?”
Because I don’t want everyone looking at me. Not when I have to find a way to get out of here before they force me to turn Margo into a Hollow.
“These are from Justice Méndez,” Leo says, presenting me with ruby-red gloves.
“I’ve never received so many presents,” I say, suspicion in my voice.
“It is a festival day.” Leo’s green eyes twinkle as he draws out a tiny key from the inside of his pocket.
Leo unlocks the old glove, then locks on the new ones. The fine red suede comes up to my elbows and they have a black chain mail trim with ruby cuff links that clamp down. Nothing but longer manacles than the ones I had before.
Out on the royal mile, the parade of noble families has come to an end. There’s a group of priests from the church of the Lord of Worlds and their followers. At the very end is the royal family’s carriage. King Fernando and his young queen, dripping with jewels. Queen Josephine’s dress reminds me of clouds drifting by, white against her polished black skin. When she holds her hands out to the crowd, they reach for her lovingly. The king and queen’s festival crowns are tall, dotted with the violet crystals of their family’s crest.
I inhale through my disappointment. Prince Castian isn’t in the carriage with them. Time is running out. My hands are numb with the idea of draining Margo of all her memories, turning her into a shell of the girl who fought beside me in battle, who’d give her life to bring justice to her people.
A troupe of trumpeters follows behind the king and queen to close off the ceremonial parade. The festival that celebrates the Lord of Worlds destroying the Lady of Shadows is far from over. There’s a new chorus of trumpets, bells, and singing. The way they wave the purple-and-gold flags of Puerto Leones reminds me of the day Dez was executed. My body buzzes with renewed energy. Purpose.
I take one last look in the mirror before we leave, touching the silver stitching on my gown. There’s a snap, like a concentrated crackle of lightning when I touch the dress for too long. It’s the elation of having run from the Second Sweep and lived. The heady buzz of a kiss under moonlight. Then I realize. Not silver. Platinum. The childish rhyme pops into my head. Four platinum veins to lock up the past. My hands buzz as I touch the metal, a metal so rare I dared not dream I would ever have it for my own. It wasn’t the tonic that made me feel better—it was the dress.
There’s only one person with the means to do this. But why?
The zing of my magics heats up beneath the gloves. Reacting. Fusing. Igniting. My mind is clearer than it’s ever been before. The Gray a distant vault that rests.
I am a shadow, I am a drop of ink. Vengeance in the night.